


How to tell your best friend he's a mutant (a beginner's guide to sabotaging all your best intentions)

by rallamajoop



Series: Summers'son [2]
Category: Cable and Deadpool
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward teenage confessions, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Psychic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-20 13:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rallamajoop/pseuds/rallamajoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which teen Nate is an abject failure at talking things out with Wade in a mature and adult fashion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Best read as one of several ways things might have gone for young Nate and Wade after where we left them previously.

  
In the midst of school and homework and spending his free time hanging out with Wade when he's not occupied learning to filter out the worst of the psychic background noise or how to stop himself rearranging his furniture in his sleep, a life that Nathan had once been convinced he'd never settle into becomes almost comfortable. _Almost_ , because there's no way that a few months of early 21st century life could make more than a dent in a thousand semi-conscious habits drilled into him over the first seventeen years, and getting used to the constant, low-grade mental alarm he feels whenever he remembers he's unarmed in public isn't the same as not experiencing it, but given the circumstances, 'almost' is not half bad.

Everything has fallen into such a familiar routine that it's quite the shock for Nathan to realise one day that he's known Wade for nearly four months now and he still hasn't gotten around to having the other conversation with him. Not the one that goes, 'I am aware you find other boys attractive and I want you to know it doesn't bother me', but the one that goes, 'Have you ever wondered whether you might be a mutant?'. It's a conversation he's been meaning to have with Wade since the day they met, one that might just change Wade's life, and now that he's finally gotten around to thinking about it in so many words, he can't make any sense of why he's put it off this long.

It's certainly not that he'd simply forgotten about it; every time he sees Wade it's there, nagging at him from the back of his mind. It's the one loose thread in the ugly web of secrets he's been tangled up in ever since Scott had the idea of sending him to a regular school (an idea he resents less now, having had long enough to appreciate that Scott may have had a point, but still resents nonetheless). Meeting Wade had been like being thrown a lifeline; even Scott can't expect him to keep his mutant nature from another mutant. When they'd first met he recalls having had the general intent to bring the subject up by the end of the week, but then it had seemed like a better idea to delay until he knew Wade a little better, and then... well, that's where he loses track of his own excuses because it's been months rather than days and he knows Wade better than he'd known some of his comrades in arms back home. The best excuse for why he's still putting it off is a vague idea that he hasn't found the right moment, but that sounds weak even in his own head. The only reason anyone goes on waiting for 'the right moment' for this long is if they're avoiding the battle.

What worries him most is that he hadn't even noticed he was doing it. The Askani have a number of cutting sayings on the subject of what sort of person it is who hides their motives so effectively that they themselves lose sight of them, and the whole pattern is so spectacularly unlike him that catching himself at is quite disturbing.

The answer when it comes to him – and it turns out to be so simple it takes all of five minutes of running the options against the feeling in his gut – is that the I-know-you-like-boys conversation and the could-you-be-a-mutant conversation were never so unrelated as he might have let himself believe. As much as he's hung on the idea of having one secret he can share, he's not so stupid that he could imagine there's anything in that whole tangled mess of lies that could come unravelled easily. It's not the idea of suggesting to Wade they might both be mutants that's making him hesitate, it's the fact that he can't admit he's a mutant without talking about his own powers, and short of outright lying about his telepathy, that means Nathan's going to have to admit he's been picking up stray thoughts from Wade since the day they met. And there they reach the part that would be awkward for both of them even if Wade's thoughts _didn't_ regularly include a lot of elaborate sexual fantasies staring him.

It's not easy to convince yourself that you and your friend can talk through an issue like that when you can _feel_ how scared he is by the thought you might ever find out.

Wade's not ashamed of his preferences, not really – he'd be the last person in the world to give a damn about conforming to societal expectations, and any half-formed, quasi-religious ideas that would cast his looks as karmic retribution for his preferences (or the other way around) he's long since abandoned along with the rest of the skin lotions, anti-allergen pills and other well-meant but useless relics lingering from his times with less well-suited foster families. He is, however, wired for rapid descent into a twitching wreck at the slightest threat of the rest of the school population finding out that his eyes drag at the sight of an attractive boy. There's a world of difference between being the ugly, unpopular freak with the attitude problem and being the ugly, unpopular gay freak, and it's the difference between qualifying for a minimal level of grudging respect and the knowledge people still laugh behind their hands at his better pranks, and just being a freak, no ifs or buts, go straight to freaksville, do not pass go. The social politics of high school grant just enough leeway for one to be gay _or_ disfigured. Not both.

The point is, even if he's okay with it on his own terms – even if Theresa knows, and Weasel probably suspects, and Blind Al had him picked at twenty paces – Wade suffers from a very deep-seated fear of being found out. Nothing, but _nothing_ , could have fed that fear more ammunition than developing a massive crush on his new best friend – or, to get events in their strict chronological sequence, making friends with his new best crush. He also suffers from a perfectly healthy teenaged libido, a spectacularly vivid imagination and a truly miserable record at keeping his resolutions about not thinking about sex in Nate's presence.

The combination has, to say the least, served as a marvellous incentive for Nathan to get his telepathic shielding back up to scratch in a hurry or risk of being hit with an emotional cocktail of guilt/fear/arousal overlaid with images of himself shirtless every time Wade's mind wanders, but even given his best attempts, things slip through. He'd have to admit that once in a while this might even have been deliberate, for try as he might it would have been hard not to develop a mild fascination with what pops up out of Wade's imagination. Wade's fantasy life runs the full spectrum from the innocent and mundane (the one where Wade does nothing more sexual than rub massage oil into Nate's back is oddly sweet, for example) to the exotic and, in many cases, biologically improbable (the fascination on tentacles Nathan thinks he's mostly figured out, the phallic connotations are hard to miss; the fascination with duct tape remains a mystery). Most of the enduring examples are far too obvious in motive to be all that revealing, but for every fantasy where Wade wakes up one morning to find his skin condition vanished and Nate suddenly unable to keep his hands off him, there's another where, for example, he wakes up to find he's turned _female_ with the same result, and which Nathan can't make head or tail of (for all of Wade's many idiosyncrasies, gender dysphoria is certainly not among them). More than a few require one or both of them to be inebriated, if not outright drugged with some manner of dangerously potent aphrodisiac. It seems it's usually easier for Wade to construct wild and ridiculous scenarios than allow himself to contemplate the possibility that anything could happen between him and Nathan in real life.

What Wade's collection lacks is more than a very few which cast Nathan as the enthusiastic initiator, and even those that do usually hinge on the revelation that the 'Nate' involved is some kind of evil twin out to seduce Wade for his own nefarious purposes rather than the real thing. Nathan can only suppose this is his own fault; after making such a concentrated effort to avoid discussing his real preferences for Wade's sake it's only logical that Wade would assume he's either clueless about sex, functionally asexual or both, but the upshot has required himself to spend a lot of time gritting his teeth over echoes of an imaginary version of himself who's hopelessly mischaracterised. Life in the future may not have afforded him a lot of time to experiment with his peers, but even a couple of fumbling kisses in rare moments of peace and privacy and one almost-steady sort-of-girlfriend put him head and shoulders above anything Wade can boast, and that's even without factoring in the effect of having spent his formative years under the care of the Askani, whose favoured method of discouraging teenage sex involves making sure their wards know every possible gritty detail on the subject. Wade, meanwhile, despite many hours of concentrated effort, has yet to find a way to deactivate the porn filter Blind Al had installed on his computer.

He's not quite sure what it says about him that he's not nearly so bothered that his best friend frequently entertains graphic sexual fantasies about him as he is that the same friend is stuck with the impression he would be _shy_ about the subject of sex.

There's just no easy way for Nathan to bring up the subject that isn't doomed to backfire. Wade has _nightmares_ about him finding out. (He has _not_ -nightmares that involve Nate finding out on a regular basis as well, but he tends to wake up from those feeling just as bad.) The last thing Wade needs is to have it thrown in his face that even his attempts at subtlety are all for naught, he feels guilty enough about his feelings already. Knowing that Nate doesn't mind his crush could hardly make much difference.

And _that_ , albeit by a somewhat circuitous path, is at the root of why Nathan's been so reluctant to raise the mutant conversation with him. He hasn't been putting it off out of cowardice, he's been trying to give Wade the space to get over him.

For the space of about five minutes Nathan lets himself relax – it's a good reason, respectful of Wade's wishes, attached to a clear and specific end limit – before the logical problems start to pile up. Firstly, while the idea of waiting until Wade's crush on him inevitably petered out and faded into ancient history might have been defensible back when he'd been able to assume it would only last a week or two, it's now been the elephant in their relationship for four months solid. Wade's trying to get over him, he really is, and Nathan's done his best to respect that, but after a dozen attempts to divert himself back to his old assortment of fantasy boyfriends and celebrity crushes have come and gone without success, it's looking less and less likely that's ever going to happen. Even should fate conspire to make him wake up completely asexual first thing tomorrow morning the earliest Nathan would have any realistic chance of bringing up the subject of his telepathy _without_ Wade's first thought being _oh my god, he knows I used to want to tap that so hard whoever pulled me out would be the next king of England_ would still be several years away.

Secondly, between the shirt-stripping for distraction, shamelessly showing off his prowess at martial arts and responding with bursts of irrational jealousy at the first sign that Wade might be so much as _starting_ to get over him, Nathan can't entirely claim that he's been helping matters.

What in the hell is wrong with him? Relationships, Nathan thinks gloomily, were always so much simpler than this back home. At this rate they're never going to be able to talk things out. Maybe he could just... gloss over the telepathy for the time being?

No, that's no kind of solution. This has gone beyond finding a way to tell Wade that he's probably a mutant, this is about how on earth he's let himself go on treating Wade's feelings for him like a short term issue for so long. Even now it's hard to make himself believe that it _has_ gone on this long, when Wade's attraction never started with anything more than, 'whoa, he's _hot!_ ' – exactly the sort of skin-deep infatuation that ought to have crashed and burned when the reality of who Nathan was didn't match Wade's image. Instead, if anything as they've gotten to know each other it's only gotten worse.

And he _has_ been avoiding the issue, mentally _and_ psychically, or as much as that's possible with his powers still going through the telepathic equivalent of what his voice did when it started to break. It's not without justification; it would be so _easy_ to accidentally nudge Wade one way or another otherwise, to say nothing of the violation of Wade's privacy or the denial that he – that they've _both_ – been using to cope with the simple fact that Wade's infatuation isn't showing any signs of going away. Lately it's been taking too much of his concentration even to keep it off his mind. Bits of Wade's fantasies keep on slipping through – that shameful curiosity ensures it even when leaky shields don't. If anything he'd swear he's been getting worse lately; fragments of thoughts about _him_ and _Wade_ and _sex_ keep popping up in his head unbidden even when Wade's not around-

... _oh_.

Well. That. Um.

For a long moment all Nathan can think is _you were_ jealous _when he stopped thinking about you – for all of half an hour he stopped thinking about you and_ you were jealous – _what did you THINK that meant?_ He'd spent the rest of the evening coming up with an answer he was happy with at the time and he can't even remember what it was anymore.

It _can't_ be that obvious, can it? He's not emotionally repressed, he's never been uncomfortable with his preferences – he's _liked_ other people before, both those who were attainable and those who were anything but, but it's never snuck up on him like this. Then again, he's never liked anyone like Wade, who wants him and thinks he shouldn't want him in equal proportions and broadcasts both so loudly that reading his feelings telepathically feels like cheating. All those times he'd experienced a glow of smug satisfaction at the thought of how much more hopeless Wade would be over him if he only knew his best friend could take down any of his favourite action heroes single handed, all those ridiculous TV shows he'd sat through on Wade's couch just for the sake of spending time with him, all his frustration with how the Nate in Wade's fantasies is just that – a fantasy built out of the same misconceptions Nathan let him foster for what he'd convinced himself was Wade's own good when all he really wanted to do was admit he was glad Wade wasn't getting over him. What he feels for Wade has grown beyond empathy, beyond friendship, beyond appeasing his ego, far beyond any explanation but the simplest one either of them could have asked for. All this time he's been caught between his idea that Wade would get over him eventually and Wade's unshakable conviction that Nate could never like him back – how could they both have gotten each other so wrong?

For one bizarre moment Nathan actually panics at the thought of how he's going to break that to Wade – he knows he's nothing like the Nate Wade fantasises about, Wade would never be able to look at him the same way again if he knew how Nathan really thinks of him, what if...? A second later he thinks again and feels properly ridiculous for ever having that thought in the in the first place. As if Wade is likely to be _unhappy_ Nate isn't as straight as he thought he was. He really has been spending too much time in Wade's head for his own good.

They've both spent so long basing their relationship on so many bad assumptions that thinking of the two of them as people who _could_ be a couple is going to take some getting used to. Should be, even.

That is what he wants, isn't it?

Experimentally, he thinks about what it would be like to kiss Wade – really kiss him, without any of Wade's misplaced ideas about his inexperience to colour the image, and perversely, it's that that powers him over his last vestiges of hesitation. He pictures himself cornering Wade up against a wall, caging him in with his body and arms. Wade would flatten himself into the wallpaper in panic, not because he minded but because, pressed up close enough that Nathan could feel Wade's heartbeat louder than his own, he'd be terrified Nathan would notice how _much_ he didn't mind. Even with Nathan moving in, leaning down through the few inches that separated their heights and tilting his head – even then he'd hang on to the conviction he'd misinterpreted the situation somehow and that there was a perfectly heterosexual explanation for whatever Nate was up to that would be obvious if he could only get his brain turning over again. He'd go on thinking that until the last possible moment, when they were close enough to taste each other's breath.

Just for that, Nathan imagines leaning in as slowly as he can bear, savouring the moment, giving Wade as much time as possible to realise _this is really happening_ before their lips finally meet.

He thinks about all the times they'd spent curled up on the couch next to each other in front of the TV, working their way through Wade's list; those little moments of quiet that would follow the endcredits when Wade's incessant commentary would wind down to a halt because the end of the movie meant it was time for Nate to go home, and there was no way to say _can't you hang around a little longer?_ that wouldn't make him sound like a _total girl_. So many opportunities when he could have turned to Wade and smiled and close the distance between them, Wade's lips barely open in surprise when Nathan presses his own against them.

He wonders what Wade's skin would feel like if he slipped his hands up under his shirt, textured and strange but Wade's unmistakably. He knows perfectly well Wade's never kissed anyone before. He'd be nervous, too eager to please to have any idea how to go about it, but Nathan can't imagine him being anything less than an enthusiastic learner. It dawns on him then that no matter how he starts this, when that moment hits when it sinks into Wade's head that Nathan wants him back, he's going to get to feel it with him.

Self-consciously, Nathan finds himself reaching down to adjust himself through his pants. If he goes on with that train of thought he's... going to be there a while.

_I could do that to him for real_ , he thinks, and for a glorious while he stays there, almost giddy with the thought of how happy he's going to be able to make Wade. But it's possible that in the real world, pinning Wade up against the nearest surface and ambushing him with this out of the blue might not be the best way to raise the subject. Wade would probably accuse him of being his own evil twin

Actually, this is one he's going to have to put some thought into. Between the I-like-you conversation, the have-you-wondered-if-you're-a-mutant conversation _and_ the I-can-read-your-mind-but-don't-worry-I-like-it-there conversation the list is stacking up, and hopelessly interconnected as they may be, if he dumps all that one Wade at once something is liable to short circuit.

He could just come out and tell Wade how he feels, but it seems less than honest not to admit up front how he could have been so confident that his confession would be well received. Without that context the whole thing is likely to seem like it came out of nowhere, and letting Wade think, even for a day or two, that all this has nothing to do with him having spent the last few months watching Wade picturing him tied up with duct tape on a daily basis.... Nathan grimaces; dishonesty doesn't even cover that. On the other hand, if he leads by confessing about his telepathy he's almost definitely going to end up fighting the uphill battle to explain that what Wade thinks about him is a _good thing_ while Wade freaks out. Had he been born to be a poet rather than a soldier perhaps he'd be up to finding the words that would let him break both to Wade at once, but the mess he's made of this so far seems like fairly definitive evidence that he's not, and all he's likely to gain for trying is a headache.

Maybe... maybe what he needs is a third option. The root of the problem isn't that he's psychic or that he's taken such a stupid, backwards route to realising how he feels about Wade, it's that they've both been hiding behind the convenient fictions that 1) Wade will get over him and 2) that Nathan has no interest in boys. If he could just clear Wade up on the latter – slip it into conversation somewhere, it shouldn't be hard to do – _that_ ought to get the ball rolling in the right direction. He'll need to give Wade a day or two for that to sink in, but Wade's not completely stupid – there's not bad odds that he might even guess that dropping that detail is Nate's way of building up to letting him know there's this one boy he likes in particular.

Settling on the plan doesn't come without a little reluctance – he'll miss the chance to blow Wade's mind, but it's obviously the only fair way to break the news. Given their history, even _he could like me_ ought to be something Wade will find mind-blowing enough.

Nathan proceeds to spend the rest of the evening in a kind of pleasant daze, not noticing he's been wandering around with a half-smile plastered over his face until he catches Scott about to ask him what he's smiling about over dinner and clamps down on it too suddenly to leave any chance that Scott (whose powers of parental insight are developing by the day, lack of telepathy be damned) could miss why. He gets out of a lecture on misuse of his powers to pre-empt conversations only because Scott doesn't need to go to that much length when he's just about mastered the art of expressing his disappointment with one or two pointed comments and a meaningful look which, in light of earlier revelations about how much his telepathy had complicated his relationship with Wade rather than the opposite hits him right where he's still sensitive with even more impact than Scott could have intended. He doesn't get out of being asked what had him in such a good mood, and Askani knows he's not going to tell Scott the truth so he mutters something about having figured something out. Scott doesn't buy it but catches enough of a hint that his son is finally starting to feel at home in this century that he doesn't risk ruining it by pressing for details.

He's been in love barely an hour and already he's lost all talent at subtlety or discretion. It's a damn good thing he's got a plan for how to break this to Wade – left to his own devices he's not sure he'd be able to improvise his way through a simple conversation with him right now. He's going to feel like a right fool for taking so long to figure out something so simple for a long while yet, but none of this can make a dent in his good mood.

This lasts right up until he's getting ready for bed, much later that night, emotionally exhausted but still strung so high that it's an odds on bet whether he gets any sleep, when he suddenly wonders what Wade's doing right that moment – no more than a passing thought, except that when you're psychic, _wondering_ and _knowing_ are never far apart, and never closer than when you're tired and happy and your gifts are fluctuating on a hormonally sprung hair trigger.

And that is how Nathan catches Wade in the middle of enjoying the fantasy where Nate gets an erection at school that absolutely won't go away until Wade finds him hiding in an empty classroom and offers to 'help' with matters.

Circumstances being what they were, not all the carefully laid plans in the world could have prevented what Nathan did next.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Wade is lying on his back on his bed, currently in the middle of breaking Resolution #31: We Do Not Think About Nate With Our Hand Down Our Pants (Anymore) (No Really This Time We Mean It), ratified a little over 48 hours previously (which is not even close to a record, _goddamn_ it) in the aftermath of the breaking of resolution #30 in similar fashion. Right now if he can manage to keep his "don't move around so much over the rusty old bedsprings that Blind Al starts banging on the ceiling with the broom"-resolution he's going to be doing pretty well.  
  
Stupid Nate. Stupid _winkie_ that hardly gets interested anymore unless Nate's involved. Here he is trying to have a perfectly innocent, normal fantasy about himself, the entire male membership of the Avengers (except Ant-man, who's lame, and Wonder-man, who's even lamer, but occasionally also She-Hulk, because he may be gay but he's not _that_ gay), a tentacle monster and a vat of maple syrup, and just when it's getting really good everyone starts turning into Nate. There is no rational way the idea of finding his best friend holed up in a classroom with an awkward boner should get him more excited than a good, wholesome, gooey tentacle-orgy – but apparently this is exactly the sort of freak he's become in his life in the days AN. What's it going to be next, he'll be getting his freak on to thoughts of candle-lit dinners and Celine Dion? Well, he's probably safe as long as candle-lit dinners don't start stripping off their shirts in front of him and flexing their glistening muscles in his face.  
  
Ooh, fantasy-Nate should be shirtless too. It was probably hot in that classroom and he didn't wanna get spunk on his shirt – what more reason does he need? Wade adjusts his fantasy to match.  
  
Stupid, _stupid_ Blind Al and her stupid unbreakable Internet filter for making sure that a few hours hanging out with Nate in singlet weather is the closest thing to real porn he ever gets to see. So what if she's a like hundred and nine, that's no excuse for not knowing that's only what the Internet is _for_. Even if he tried to explain how vitally important it is for the sake of his and/or Nate's long-term mental health and safety that he have regular access to the kind of material found behind 'by entering this site you state that you are over eighteen years of age' banners she'd probably just thank him for giving her the best laugh she'd had in months and tell him that if he was that desperate he should go lift some playboy magazines from the local newsagency like they did in her day, the evil old witch. It's not like she even cares if he's old enough to watch porn or not, she just likes making his life miserable. Sheesh, you dump live ants in someone's underwear drawer maybe once or twice and they hold it against you for life.  
  
Every time he gets close to making headway on his not-thinking-about-Nate-like-that record Nate has to go and ruin it by – by _smiling_ at him in that way he does – the soft way that makes him look like he can't think of anything he'd rather be doing than hanging out with his ugly, loser best friend – or pulling one of those effortless judo-flip moves out of nowhere that leave him sprawled out on his back in the dirt _completely at Nate's mercy_ and trying to pretend the stunned expression on his face means he's innocently winded rather picturing something there is no way is going to happen next. If he wasn't so sure Nate was as straight as every other stupidly hot guy he'd ever gotten his panties in a bunch over he'd swear he was doing it on purpose. Why couldn't he have found an awesome new best friend who was a little less distracting?  
  
And while he's at it, stupid conscience for always popping up unannounced to make sure he feels like a dick for trying to pin Nate with the blame for his inability to keep it out of his pants.  
  
It all adds up to guarantee that whenever he gives in and gets himself off thinking about Nate he has more than his share of frustration to take out on his best friend's fantasy counterpart.  
  
In the halls of Wade's imagination, Nate's sitting in one of those uncomfortable school chairs, his hands gripping the armrests and his knees hanging open. The lights are off and they shut the door so the classroom's dim and quiet the way you get in the late afternoon when the only light is coming in through the windows but it's not really dark. Wade's kneeling on the floor between his legs. Nate's cock looks... well, in his head pretty much like his does (since thanks to Blind Al it's almost the only hard cock he's ever gotten to see) and feels the same too (because that's the one he's really touching, duh). Nate's past the part where he tries to tell Wade he doesn't have to do this; past the part where he reassures Wade it feels okay, it feels good; past where he looks at Wade with that faint, pink tinge colouring his cheeks and his breath coming out in little pants like he can't believe Wade would do this for him, and up to the part where Wade's jacking him nice and even, not too fast because he doesn't want to hurt him (if he's letting himself think about Nate he's gonna damn well make the most of it) – he's just keeping the pace slow until Nate needs it. Nate's eyes have drifted shut, not because he can't bear to watch, just because he's enjoying it; his mouth falls open a little as his head tilts back, _yeah_. Wade can feel him twitching a bit like he's trying not to thrust – he had no idea Wade would be so good at this, and if Nate's not looking at him Wade doesn't have to worry about how he's looking back, because Nate really doesn't have any idea what he's doing to Wade just by letting him touch his dick like this.  
  
(Stupid to even let himself have these kinds of fantasies so close to being something he can almost imagine could really happen when he knows the real Nate would never, ever consider ever letting him do something like this in real life...)  
  
That's when fantasy-Nate tips his head forward and opens his eyes and says, _What makes you so sure, Wade?_  
  
 _Huh?_ thinks Wade eloquently – more or less. He's already way past where he's up to much in the way of those higher cognitive functions. It's not unusual for these sort of fantasies to get away from him, but _that_ – that has definitely never happened before.  
  
 _I said_ , repeats fantasy Nate, and _oshit_ he's looking Wade right in the eye, _what makes you so sure I'd never want this?_ and he smiles, not the nowhere-I'd-rather-be smile – it's the I-could-eat-you-for-breakfast smile, or the I-know-a-secret smile he does when he's about to demonstrate a whole new way of kick Wade's arse without breaking a sweat then casually decline to explain where the hell he learnt to do that. Wade doesn't actually remember that smile being so _sexy_.  
  
 _But you... but you're..._ Wade tries, in a valiant but confused attempt to remind fantasy-Nate that in the real world he happens to be _straight_.  
  
 _Am I?_ Nate chuckles, deep in his throat. _That's so much like you, Wade. Just because I'm tall and good looking, I couldn't possibly be attracted to other boys, not even a little._  
  
 _All the other unfairly hot guys at school are!_ Wade protests. _Everyone knows that!_ Has fantasy-Nate not noticed what an inappropriate conversation this is to be having with someone who's jerking you off in an empty classroom?  
  
Nate does the chuckle again. _Oh Wade. You'd be surprised. But we're not talking about them, and in all the time you've known me you've never actually_ asked _me_. Nate leans forward in his chair and reaches out to brush his fingers over Wade's side, presses his palm to Wade's stomach and slides it slowly in and down towards his... okay, this has _definitely_ never been part of this fantasy before.  
  
 _We never talk about girls_ , says Nate, calmly, like he's not right in the act of reaching for Wade's happy place, _We certainly never talk about boys. So I'm asking you Wade, what makes you so sure I couldn't possibly like_ you?  
  
Wade doesn't dare look down, can't look away when Nate's still looking him right in the eye, but with his heart in his mouth oh boy can he ever _feel_ it as Nate's wandering hand rubs firmly over the bulge in his pants, once, twice, before pushing the fabric aside and drawing him out one-handed (how did he even do that he shouldn't be able to reach from that angle but this isn't real, none of this is real so Nate can do whatever he likes).  
  
 _Wait, the one where_ I _get the erection and_ you _help me out with it is a whole other..._ he tries. He's finding it hard to form a proper protest about how this isn't the fantasy he meant to have today when he could swear he can actually feel Nate's fingers stroking over his cock. Fantasy-Nate turns out to be a goddamn tease, he's hardly more than brushing it with his fingertips and already Wade is starting to wonder if you can explode from being more turned on than the body can take. If so he's in real danger but at least he's going to go out happy.  
  
 _How do you know_ , Nate whispers, _that I – the real me – isn't lying at home in bed right now... thinking about what it would be like to do this to you?_ And with that fantasy-Nate closes his fist around Wade's cock properly and strokes it firmly, still smiling, still looking Wade right in the eye, like he's going for this year's award for blind coordination.  
  
Wade really has no idea how he hasn't come yet. Maybe it's that tiny voice in the back of his mind still trying to tell him _no, we don't think about Nate like this, there are incredibly important reasons why we do not ever think of Nate like this_ , and he's very sure there's a perfectly good reason why if only he could remember what it was right at the moment.  
  
Fantasy-Nate leans over his shoulder and breathes _Wade_ in his ear, drawing out the vowel as far as it will last. Until now everything fantasy-Nate has said sounded so smug and confident and casual but on that last word he sounds like he's coming undone, and that's it for Wade; the orgasm that feels like it's been building for the last million years' worth of the last hardly-ten-minutes rips through him, harder and longer than he ever knew it was _possible_ for a guy to come and in the middle of it he could swear he heard Nate doing the same.  
  
 _Whoa_ , is the first remotely coherent thought that makes it into Wade's mind afterwards, through the pleasant haze dragging him down into sleep, _where did_ that _come from?_  
  


* * *

  
Nathan comes back to himself lying on his bed, a sticky sensation pooling on his stomach, coming down fast and hard from the high of practically being able to feel Wade under his fingertips as reality settles over him like a dead weight. A few hours ago he hadn't even realised he wanted Wade and now he's doing _this?_  
  
What he'd just done – that had crossed the line. That had crossed lines that no-one had ever felt the need to draw for him explicitly, it was so plainly something _you did not do._  
  
That had really not been how he'd been planning on dropping a hint to Wade about his interest.  
  
So much for his plans – he needs to own up to Wade about exactly what happened tonight at his next opportunity. Tomorrow. No later.  
  
Wade will probably understand.


	3. Chapter 3

  
Nathan doesn't find himself looking forward to seeing Wade the next morning as much as he usually would.  
  
The instant Wade catches sight of him in the school corridor he experiences a full-body flashback to the image of Nathan's psychic self reaching for his inseam. He freezes, eyes wide, then dives for his schoolbag, suddenly discovering the urgent need to devote all his concentration to hunting through it very thoroughly for something or other. _Stupid stupid stupid stupid thing to let yourself think about Nate you stupid..._  
  
The litany of misplaced guilt hits Nathan somewhere equally personal. The irony of how they're both stewing in guilt over the same incident isn't lost on him, the difference being, of course, that Wade has nothing to feel guilty about. He does.  
  
Much as he hates to allow himself any excuses to put off making this right, this isn't a conversation they can have in public.  
  
"Hey," he calls to Wade, who jumps like he's bitten, both hands still buried in his school bag, "you free this evening?"  
  
 _Say no!_ screeches Wade's inner monologue. _Make an excuse, anything will do! You can't trust yourself around Nate right now! You were supposed to hang out with Weasel today – remember Weas, guy who used to be your best friend before you ditched him for the outside chance of getting to oogle Nate's abs?_  
  
Out loud, almost without stuttering, Wade says, "You know me, I'm always free. Your place or mine?" Barely have the words left his lips before he's wincing at his choice of phrasing.  
  
"Mine," says Nathan quickly. Unlike Blind Al, Scott rarely makes it home under an hour after school lets out, and they're going to want their privacy.  
  
Wade practically sags with relief when the bell rings. "Great see ya later," he says, all in one breath, and flees down the corridor.  
  
It's going to be a long day.

* * *

Wade has had time to calm down considerably by the time they meet to walk home, even if he does keep up a steady stream of conversation on any and every innocent topic that might keep him diverted from thinking about last night. The story about how his maths teacher seriously thinks they're all going to do a whole chapter review over the weekend just because he wasted half the lesson giving them a lecture on the Importance Of Doing Your Homework carries them out of the school. The tale of how Brian-Dickface-Thompson got all up in his face, used the 'f' word (freak, when you're talking to Wade) and dared him to make something of it then flinched so far when Wade jerked his arm like he was really gonna punch that mofo right where he deserved it that he tripped over his own shoes and face-planted right into Toby Whitehouse's lunch tray and how fucking hilarious it was lasts the next couple of blocks. The news about the new FPS Weasel's almost talked his Dad into getting him for his birthday and all the sweet things he's heard about the new blood-splatter physics get them almost to Nathan's front door. Nathan's contribution is mostly limited to offering the occasional expression of agreement in three words or less whenever Wade has to stop for breath. Just as they're reaching the front door Wade gets to the end of his last topic without another lined up to follow and for all of a moment he panics. By the next he's remembered that hanging out with Nate in a fog of awkward sexual tension is something he does _every day_ and kicked himself back into acting casual, but his nerves are contagious. Nathan is left feeling even less comfortable than Wade is.  
  
By the time they're dumping their bags by the end of Nathan's bed he's well past ready to get this over with, but no more ready to tackle the subject than he's ever been.  
  
"So, you wanna watch that new Tarantino DVD?" Wade suggests.  
  
This is it, the moment of truth. "Actually, there's something I need to talk to you about."  
  
Wade is instantly apprehensive. The image of a Nate who needs to talk to him about the awkward erections he keeps getting at school rises in his mind, but it's mostly habit and just as rapidly beaten down and shoved under the thick woollen comforter of common sense and the repeated mantra that not _everything_ is about sex, sheesh. "What kinda something?"  
  
Nathan hasn't planned out what he's going to say – how _do_ you plan out a way to say, _I'm telepathic, I've known you found me attractive since the day we met and I've decided I feel the same way about you, but mostly what I need to admit is that the reason you had a fantasy about me coming on to you last night was because I barged into your mind without your permission, and did I mention that I'm incredibly sorry, I got carried away in the moment but that's really no excuse. But if you're not too freaked out by all this I'd like to do it again, properly this time...?_ Certainly not like that, dumping the whole story on Wade in one go. _What you felt last night was me_ is the crux of the matter, but going straight there without giving Wade the first hint as to how any of this is possible doesn't seem like much of a plan. What he needs to is somewhere to start from.  
  
"I can read minds," he blurts out, half-expecting somehow that with that much out there Wade will be able to put the rest of it together within a minute.  
  
Wade looks at him like he's just tried to drop an endorsement for an expensive brand of lady's deodorant into everyday conversation without looking suspicious. "You can _not_."  
  
"No, I really can," Nathan assures him.  
  
"Uh-huh. _Sure_ you can," says Wade, clearly still waiting for the punch line, all thoughts of inconvenient fantasies finally, ironically, drowned out under the sirens of his bullshit detector.  
  
"Wade, I'm not having you on." Nathan is already losing patience. He's trying to admit to something important here and instead he hasn't even made it past the first hurdle of Wade's natural skepticism. "I can prove it if you like."  
  
"Is this that trick where you tell someone to pick a number, only it has to be between one and fifty and everyone picks thirty-seven because the rules make it so you-"  
  
"Do you _want_ to play 'think of a number'?" Nathan says, interrupting. "No rules, no limits, any number you like."  
  
"Okay, fine," says Wade, pauses for a beat then raises his eyebrows. "Got it yet?"  
  
Nathan finds the end of his patience. "Wade," he says, "'pie' is not a number."  
  
"Shows how much attention _you_ pay in maths," crows Wade, "it is too a number! Three-point-one-something-to-do-with-circles..."  
  
"That's not the kind of pie you were thinking of. You were thinking of the kind with pastry and..." Nathan pauses to concentrate, "pumpkin filling?"  
  
Wade's mouth falls wide open. "Holy shit," he manages after a few seconds of gaping.  
  
In retrospect Nathan doesn't know how else he was expecting Wade to react. "Believe me now?"  
  
"Holy _shit_. How'd you do that?"  
  
"Like I was trying to explain," Nathan says, very slowly, "I can read minds."  
  
"So, uh, is this, like, something you only realised you could do lately?" _Oh please say yes_ , Wade thinks, over his barrier of natural skepticism only to hit the spike-pit of uncomfortable implications at speed, _Shit, when was the last time I thought about having sex with him? All day, right, yeah, but only, like, sideways, it's almost like I wasn't thinking about it at all; if this is all some kind of trick I sure hope he's getting a good laugh out of it._  
  
"It's something I've been able to do for most of my life," Nathan admits. "I didn't-"  
  
"You've been reading _my_ mind? All this time?" Wade takes a step back, away from him. _He knows? How can he know? He_ can't _know!_ "You didn’t think that maybe that was something you should have mentioned before?"  
  
"You have a tendency to think rather loudly." Nathan puts his hand on Wade's arm in what he hopes will come across as reassuring and tries to sound calming. " _Yes_ , Wade, I know. I've known all along. I didn't bring it up before because I didn't want to embarrass you. But the re-"  
  
"That's so nice of you, Nate, 'cause this thing I'm feeling now – this has _nothing to do with embarrassment_ ," Wade squeaks, edging away; Nathan is forced to turn his reassuring hand into a vice grip on Wade's arm just to stop him from bolting, hating the way Wade flinches against him.  
  
"Wade, will you just let me finish? What I'm trying to say is that I don't _mind_ that you think of me like that. I _like_ it. I've been starting to feel the same way about you." He hadn't meant to shout that part, but the way Wade's trying to shrink away from this conversation he's not sure anything else would have gotten through. He manages to pull a half smile and a shrug when Wade freezes up and stares at him. At least with that much out in the open this has to get easier.  
  
He should really have known better than to expect Wade wouldn't find a way to surprise him.  
  
"You – you _what_ me?" _Omigod – I – he – he's psychic and he keeps hearing me thinking about sex with him and now he thinks he likes me back – oh my god I mind-whammied him into thinking he likes me and I didn't even know I was doing it!_  
  
Nathan's smile slips off his face. "Wade, no, listen – it doesn't work that way." How does Wade come _up_ with this stuff?  
  
"No, Nate, I just _bet_ you woke up one day and decided you wanted the guy who kept flooding your head with how much he wanted to do you." Not even the force of Nathan's hand on his arm can stop Wade's instinct to inch away.  
  
"Oh for Pete's sake Wade," Nathan growls, grappling to regain any kind of control of the situation, "you're not the first person to think of me like that _or_ the first boy I've liked, do you really think you'd know how this works better than me?" But Wade's shaking his head, inching away under his hold; even with everything laid out for him he can’t even begin to comprehend a world where Nate could actually want him of his own free will; he just won't _listen_. "You've got it backwards, look, just let me show you..."  
  
Wade stumbles back the moment Nathan releases his arm, but he doesn't get far before Nathan has his fingers pressed to Wade's temples, opening up their minds. He calls up the memory of what it had been like to meet Wade, how it felt to recognise the same person who'd all but written him off as a stuck up jerk was giving him a chance to prove himself better; his confusion that Wade wasn't getting over him as they got to know each other, his frustration with how little the Nathan in Wade's head had in common with the real thing; all those irrational bursts of jealousy, every guilty twinge of relief that washed over him whenever he saw Wade and felt that he still wanted him, _everything_ he'd felt last night when he'd finally made sense out of his own feelings and been all but overwhelmed by how badly he wanted Wade back; he shows it all to Wade, jumbled into a seething mess of raw desire, but unmistakable in origin or intent, more honest than he knows any other way of being.  
  
When he finishes Wade's looking at him with new eyes. That, or he's short circuited.  
  
"Did that feel like I'm just reflecting back what you feel about me?" Nathan prompts.  
  
Wade opens and closes his mouth soundlessly a couple of times before saying, "Nate? Might need a hand staying upright for a second here."  
  
"Oh, sorry." Nathan grabs him under the armpits and feels some of Wade's weight sag into the support. "Please tell me I got through to you this time." He's made such a godforsaken mess of this confession so far that if Wade hasn't gotten his point he's at the end of his ideas (and certainly there's nothing that could go wrong funnelling so much raw feeling into the head of someone with no experience processing other people's emotions, oh Mother Askani when did he become so _bad_ at this?)  
  
"Nate, you..." Wade breathes, eyes snapping back up to Nathan's, like he's only just remembered what they were talking about, then hesitates. "...you think that scar ridge in my nose makes it look kind of bent from an angle?"  
  
Nathan winces. A few less relevant details had been bound to slip through, but even so, trust Wade to get sidetracked on trivialities. "Not the point, Wade."  
  
Wade tries again. "You want to see me _naked?_ "  
  
That was more like it. "You know what they say, you show me yours..."  
  
"Me? I mean, _me?_ " Wade sounds as though he could be stuck on this for a while. "You know about the skin it doesn't get any bett-"  
  
"I _know_ , Wade. It doesn't bother me, it never has. And that's still not the point."  
  
Wade hesitates again. "Did you _really_ have a sexy dream about me weeks ago and you didn't realise it meant anything?"  
  
Bigger wince. "I thought it was one of yours I'd picked up by accident. It can be harder to tell when you're asleep."  
  
"But you're sure this isn't-"  
  
"Wade, if I hadn't spent the last few months listening to you thinking about how sure you were that I could never like you back, I might have figured this out a lot sooner."  
  
"Oh. So. You like, me huh?" If Wade had been aiming for flippant he misses it by a mile. He sounds like he's forgotten how to breathe. "Like, _like_ me like me?  
  
"Yeah," Nathan admits. "I do. A lot."  
  
For a moment they both stand there like that, smiling at each other like idiots.  
  
"Is this where you kiss me?" says Wade after a bit, tongue darting nervously over his lower lip. " _Traditionally_ speaking, I mean, that would be the part we're up to, right?"  
  
Nathan has no objection to this plan. "Well, we wouldn't want to break with tradition," he says, and reaches his hands from where they've been resting under Wade's shoulders around his back to wrap around his body and pull him close.  
  
The kiss is like and unlike what he'd expected, Wade's lips soft but a little dry. He shivers at the first touch, lips parting under Nathan's own, but otherwise he doesn't seem to know how to respond.  
  
"This would also be where you're supposed to kiss me back," Nathan whispers, lips a hair's breadth from Wade's own.  
  
Wade squirms a little in his arms. "Don't take this the wrong way, but about ninety percent of me is still expecting my alarm clock to cut in any second."  
  
"You're not dreaming, Wade."  
  
"Easy for you to say, _your_ best friend hasn't just revealed he reads minds and wants in _your_ pants."  
  
"How about this then," says Nathan, in a moment of inspiration, "if this was a dream, what would you do?"  
  
Wade considers this for a second. The next, Nathan is flat on his back with a lapful of Wade, a state of affairs he'd be enjoying much more had he not just had the wind knocked halfway out of him, turning a startled laugh into a small coughing fit and ruining Wade's enthusiastic attempts to kiss him properly. None of this is helped when Wade manages to elbow him in the gut.  
  
"Sorry," says a rather sheepish Wade. "If this was a dream that would have gone better."  
  
"What a disappointment," Nathan says, mostly done with the coughing.  
  
"Smartass," says Wade cheerfully. "So disappointing, yeah. Don't know how I'll cope."  
  
"Oh, I think you do." Nathan curls a hand around the back of Wade's head and tugs him down. "How about we try this again."  
  
The third attempt goes much better, and they stay there a while, trading slow, closed-mouthed kisses on Nathan's bedroom floor. Wade still thrums with nerves, but after his first clumsy attempts go by without any knocked noses he stops concentrating so hard and gets a little bolder, opens his mouth a little more under Nathan's next kiss, then hesitates again. _Am I doing this right? How soon are you supposed to go for the tongue? Wait, you know this one, there was that article in Seventeen you read that time you were stuck in that doctor's waiting room for an hour and there was_ nothing _else to read so no-one could judge you for it. Though they could still judge you for the part where you're seriously trying to remember advice from a girly teen magazine now you're doing this for real oh crap forget it just follow Nate's lead..._  
  
Nathan smiles against his lips. _Shh_ , he whispers into Wade's mind, _you're doing fine. Just enjoy it_.  
  
Wade's face is suddenly a whole foot further away from Nathan and has the look of someone in the middle of experiencing a major revelation.  
  
"That was _you!_ " Wade squeaks. "In my head last night – that was you!"  
  
Nathan feels his face heat up. Right. _That_. Caught up in the roller-coaster of Wade's reactions he'd practically forgotten all abut it. "Yeah, it was me," he admits. "I was sort of building up to owning up about that. I'm sorry, I should never have barged in on you like that. I just... heard you thinking about me, and I got a bit carried away."  
  
" _Sorry?_ " Wade sounds incredulous, "Nate, why would you be _sorry_... well, maybe you can be a _little_ bit sorry for going full inception in my brain without even _asking_ and making me think I'd climbed into that handbasket on my own, you jerk," says Wade, whacking him on the shoulder.  
  
Nathan raises his hands apologetically. "That's what I meant. And I'm more than a little sorry. Even if you were thinking about me, I know it wasn't fair on you for me to jump in on you like that."  
  
"Well, _yeah_ , but I'll think 'a some way you can make it up to me," says Wade. In his head he's trying out the idea of a Nate who's not just into him but so into him he can hardly keep his mind off him and that – oh yeah, that is something he could totally get used to. " _What makes you think I couldn't like you_ , maybe the part where you never bothered to let me know you were gay _and_ psychic _and_ had some kinda voyeur thing going?"  
  
"I don't _usually_ ," says Nathan, losing most of his remaining hopes Wade might not have noticed him blushing under another flash of heat.  
  
"So it's just with me, huh?" says Wade, enjoying himself.  
  
"Just that one time, I promise."  
  
"Uh- _huh_ , and all the rest of those times you never bothered to mention you had a subscription to the porn track up here?" Wade taps his head with a finger.  
  
"In my defence, I was trying not to lead you on," says Nathan. "That may have backfired a little."  
  
"A _little_ ," Wade scoffs. "But Nate, seriously," and now it's Wade's turn to be shy again, "y'know it's not like I would've said no if you did tell me, right? I _knew_ there was something weird going on, it's never like that when I do it on my own. It explains so _much_ if that was you and you were – you _were_ ," the gesture Wade makes is abortive but unambiguous in meaning, "too, right?"  
  
"Oh yeah," says Nathan, with feeling.  
  
"And you..." it takes a lot to leave Wade at a loss for words, but he cycles through several different ways of finishing this question without finding any he's comfortable saying aloud.  
  
"Wade, after what I did last night, you are allowed to ask me if I got off thinking about you. The answer is yes, for the record. Yes, you have no idea. It's... never been like that for me before either."  
  
He'd honestly thought the answer would be self-evident, but the joyous sense of wonder he can feel spreading through Wade's mind is a clear sign he'd failed to account for just how much it was going to mean to him to know that not only did Nate _do_ that, a thousand guilty fantasies were instantly validated because Nate had them too! Complete with the embarrassing secrets and the lousy impulse control! That was way beyond 'he likes me back', that was like the third base with the ball still in the air of he's-just-that-into-me.  
  
Speaking of base-metaphors... _Wait, if that was the real Nate and we both had happy endings... does that mean that was sex? Not sex-sex, but at least as sex as phone sex or cyber sex. Have you still lost your cherry if you didn't know you were doing it until after? Are you allowed to decide something was sex retroactively?_ Maybe it's the look on Nathan's face that does it, but it's at this point that it dawns on Wade that his new boyfriend reads minds, and he catches Nathan's eye in a way neither of them need to be psychic to interpret. _You planning to weigh in on this one or are you just enjoying the view? This is important philosophical stuff we're dealing with._  
  
When Wade's not having his universe rearranged he catches on fast.  
  
 _We could do it again_ , Nathan thinks back, bringing his hands up to stroke gently over Wade's hips, _Just to make sure it counts_.  
  
"Yeah?" gasps Wade, out loud, so sudden that Nathan might have laughed at him in any other circumstances.  
  
"Tonight?" he suggests.  
  
"Tonight's good for me," says Wade quickly.  
  
The question, _what shall we do until then?_ hangs in the air between them, neither quite sure if voicing something that loaded would be a good idea. It doesn't take Nathan long to start wondering what to make of the fact they've effectively agreed to retreat to different houses to consummate their relationship. Mostly it seems safer just to go with it, even if they have sentenced themselves to a very long afternoon and the growing need to find something else to talk about before the shared anticipation can become a little too physical. Wade is thrilled and overjoyed and excited and overwhelmed and less than entirely certain where his feet have gone and still at least forty-eight hours short of really being able to believe he hasn't hallucinated all of this, not to mention barely a hair's breadth away from having to spend the rest of whatever they _do_ do until then with either the least or most awkward boner of his life. He doesn't know whether he wants to rip all Nathan's clothes off right now or go lie down somewhere quiet for a while with a damp cloth on his head.  
  
What he _does_ have is enough questions burning in his head to fill a biography.  
  
"So..." says Wade, sitting back a bit, "the whole psychic thing, how's that work anyway?"  
  
Well, Nathan couldn't have asked for a much better opening than that. "It's more of a mutant thing."  
  
"You're a mind-reading mutant?" Wade is surprisingly okay with this. Sometimes people are mutants. It's a thing. Set up against the rest of what he's heard this afternoon, Nate being a mutant is practically mundane. "I thought mutants usually got stuff like, I dunno, metal claws or superstrength and stuff."  
  
"Telepathy's actually one of the more common manifestations," Nathan explains, nudging Wade back. "Come on, off. I'll tell you all about it – but I'm not doing it lying on the floor."  
  
After that, with all possible complicating factors exhaustively dealt with, the mutant conversation goes as smoothly as Nathan had first imagined when they'd met, what feels like years before. It also succeeds in keeping them both distracted until well after Scott gets home, after which somehow or other they end up watching (most of) that DVD after all, but they do it with Wade leaning against Nathan's side and his head on Nathan's shoulder, the line of warmth that connects them commanding far more of his attention than anything that goes on on screen.  
  
'Tonight' goes even better.  
  
Having a boyfriend is definitely something Nathan's going to enjoy getting used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone familiar with the prompts found on the early pages of the [old Cable/Deadpool kink meme](http://spam-monster.livejournal.com/1615.html) found some of Wade's fantasies familiar, it's probably not just you. ;)  
> 


	4. Epilogue 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I felt the previous chapter was a pretty good place to leave Nate and Wade for the time being, I did write three short epilogue scenes set at various points in the next twenty-four hours. We will call this one 'Tonight'.

Nathan turns in early that night. He settles into bed with a book grabbed on his way upstairs, mostly to have an excuse to leave the light on for a while. In the sense that its real purpose is to give him something to concentrate on other than the borderline voyeuristic view of Wade's mind as Wade gets ready for bed himself (and wonders how early is too early, and if he should hurry up or if that would make him seem too eager, and Nathan needs to get out of the habit of listening too all this, even in a relationship - _especially_ in a relationship - Wade deserves some privacy, but it's going to be a hard habit to break) it does the job. Twenty minutes and five pages in and he still has no idea what he's reading.

What matters is that even with his concentration split down the middle, he's listening and ready when Wade sits himself down on his bed, hesitates, rolls onto his side, hesitates again, flops onto back and finally, tentatively thinks, _Nate? You there?_

_I'm here,_ Nathan thinks back; that's all it takes, Wade has his full attention. _I was waiting for you._

He feels Wade shiver with anticipation as clearly as Wade himself. 

_So..._ Wade thinks, unable to help sniggering to himself a little, _what are you wearing?_ He's brimming with nervous excitement but utterly determined he's not going to ruin this by wasting any more time worrying if he's doing this wrong.

_My pajamas, I'm afraid. Not terribly sexy._

_You could take them off._

_I could,_ Nathan agrees, _but, Wade, the real advantage of touching each other's minds like this is that it doesn't matter where we are, or what we're wearing. We can go anywhere we can imagine. Pick one of your fantasies, any one you like, we can be there._

_Anything?_ With Wade's mind, they both know that 'anything' covers quite the range.

This would be the part where Nathan should specify he's not entirely sure how he feels about tentacles, but for their first time he can't quite bear to give Wade any restrictions. _Considering how I took over last night, I think it's very much your turn to choose._

_Well, actually... I know how you've been seeing the stuff I've been thinking about you all along, so I was thinking... instead of one of my ideas, I'd kinda like to see what you've thought about me. Is that okay?_

_It would be, I just... Wade, I honestly meant it when I said I only figured this out yesterday. Last night_ was _the first time I've thought about you like that._

_Oh._ It's hard for Wade's to feel too disappointed that was Nathan's first foray into thoughts-about-Wade, but even now he can't quite get his head around the image of a Nate who really thinks of him like that; he can't help but feel it's just a little unfair that Nate knows so much about what Wade wants from him while Wade doesn't have the first idea what he can do to make Nate feel good. _Um. Maybe you could come up with something now?_

Nathan knows he'll never be able to rival Wade for spur-of-the-moment creativity, but with incentive like that, _There_ were _a few things I thought about doing to you earlier yesterday, just to see how it felt._ In both their minds Nathan calls up his image of the two of them on the couch together in the late afternoon, end credits scrolling up the TV screen in a room lit only by the last light of the setting sun through the window. _When I think of you, Wade, I like to be something that_ could _have really happened..._ he adds, as Wade turns to look at him right on cue. 

In their minds, Wade is just as new to kissing as he had been that afternoon; only a little more ready to believe this is real than Nathan had pictured him, but so very, very happy to be convinced, his toes already curling when Nathan nudges him back against the couch.


	5. Epilogue 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that an hour or two before the events of the last epilogue, Theresa Cassidy got an unexpected phone call.

The name that pops up on her phone makes her frown for a extra bar's worth of ringtone before answering. "Wade? Since when do you call me at home?"

"Teeerrrrryyyy. Nate kissed me!"

"Oh you _idiot_ , what – wait a minute, _he_ kissed _you?_ "

"Yuh-huh."

"On purpose? Wade, I swear, if you called me up to tell me about some stupid dare or how he tripped and fell-"

"-head over heals in love with yours truly, _siiiigh_. He _said!_ "

" _Did_ he now?"

"Well, okay, first he said a bunch of stuff about how he's a psychic mutant or some shit and how he's been taking his sweet time making up his mind or whatever, _not the point_ , Terry, _Nate kissed me!_ "

"Mm-hm. You promise me this wasn't part of some scheme to make a certain poster-boy for the dangers of _home-schooling_ believe straight best friends lock lips all the time?"

"Terry, I am hurt, would _I_ do a thing like that?"

"Wade, just because I'll be repeating that to the judge five years from now doesn't mean I have to believe it."

"I'm serious, Terry! Cross my heart! He came out and told me he liked me, and there was actualfacts swear-to-god full-articulated tongue action going over my tonsils!"

"We're getting real close to the land of TMI here, Wade."

"Aw, c'mon Terry! What kind of straight best friend are you if I can't call you up right in the middle of _American Idol_ hour to spill all the juicy deets about my _totally existent_ love life?"

"And then we can do each other's nails and braid each other's hair?"

"Hey, I'll remind you that kind of language is unbelievably offensive to the follicly challenged among us over here!"

"Alright, alright. So. _Nathan_ – the mysteriously hot one you somehow bamboozled into thinking you were cool on his first day – he's into you?"

"Like a tick in your epidermis."

"Well. I suppose congratulations are in order. Have you picked out names for your children yet or are you still deciding who gets to wear the wedding dress?"

"Terry, if you think I would be so low as to let him wear _clothes_ on our special day you have completely the wrong idea about our relationship."

"I'm hanging up the phone now, Wade. There's been a terrible emergency revolving around the cute guy with the dreadlocks and the amazing tenor who just stepped up on screen, and how I risk forfeiting all rights to bitch out the judges when they get it all wrong if I miss a second of this. Also my need to sleep tonight without this conversation coming back to haunt me."

" _Fine_ , see if _I_ come through for you when _you_ need a certified queer eye opinion on what shoes you should wear to the prom."

"Wade Wilson, I would let my own Pa pick out those shoes blindfolded before I would take advice from you. Oh, and tell your new boyfriend something from me: if it turns out he's stringing you along, any part of him still intact after that guardian of yours is done with him gets to answer to me, got it?"

"Hey, he's _taken_ , keep your grubby mits to yourself!"

"Goodnight, Wade."

[click]

A life in the orbit of Wade Wilson could be many things, but it would never be boring.


	6. Epilogue 3

The day after, he runs into Theresa on his way into school.

"Wade's in a good mood this morning," she comments, in a pointedly off-hand way that suggests she's already guessed this is somehow his fault, and Nathan can think of no reason to deny it.

"I asked him out." He can't help smiling so he doesn't try; he's just simplified his whole tumultuous confession to Wade down to four inadequate words, but the joy of it is that under all the complications it really can be that simple. 

Theresa arches an eyebrow at him. "I thought you said you weren't into boys."

"I never actually said that," Nathan points out, "you just assumed."

"Alright, smart alec, what ever happened to waiting until he got over you as he got to know you better?"

Nathan shrugs. "I guess I got to know him better."

Theresa shakes her head and lets out an awkward laugh that doesn't quite mask the fact she's finding their happiness a little infectious. "You realise he's going to be _insufferable_ now. I'm going to have to watch him struggling not to blow the story to the whole school every time you're in the same room together. We already talked about Wade's relationship with subtlety."

"I wouldn't mind if he did." Maybe Nathan's being foolish, he doesn't get the whole issue people here have with same sex couples the way Wade does, but he's got more than his share of secrets weighing on his mind, and to have just _one_ chance to properly scandalise this mundane school world that runs on popularity cliques and bad cafeteria food – that is undeniably appealing. 

Theresa wrinkles her nose; Nathan catches her thinking that she'd be asking what Wade had slipped into his drink if she hadn't been firmly convinced they were both lost causes. "Christ, you really are in love with him, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little," says Nathan. He's grinning like an idiot and he still doesn't care.

"Hey Nate, think fast!" Wade hollers, behind him, and Nathan turns just in time to catch a projectile aimed at his head. Wade whistles appreciatively. " _Nice_ catch!"

Nathan glances at what he's caught – it's a softball and it's got someone's initials on it, neither of which are 'W'. He tosses it back. "Right, nothing like a guy with good reflexes when you need to get rid of _stolen property_ in a hurry, is there?"

"Aw, Nate, you know me better than that, I wouldn't go and accessorise you by _telling_ you about it!"

"Always so thoughtful." It would seem like a much stranger exchange to be having with Wade if he didn't have Wade's internal monologue to confirm that Wade's doing it on purpose, because he knows otherwise they're just going to end up grinning at each other stupidly again right here in the hallway and _everyone_ is going to know they kinda-sorta had sex last night. _Psychic_ sex. Really _amazing_ psychic sex. Maybe they could have _more_ tonight...

Theresa rolls her eyes and leaves them to it.


End file.
